


But the fire is so delightful

by Didyamissme



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:32:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Didyamissme/pseuds/Didyamissme
Summary: The most tooth-rotting Grillster a person could ask for. Puns, innuendo, and high amounts of sugary fluff are laced throughout this Fic. Featuring Grillby: Jack of all trades and hot bartender and Gaster: Royal scientist and certified dork. A rolling chair, Glassblowing, and unnecessarily complicated descriptions of snowflakes are also present.





	But the fire is so delightful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coriander1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriander1975/gifts).



> Back on my bullshit! This is a Christmas gift for a very dear friend of mine, Coriander1975. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Gaster glanced at the clock, counting the minutes until he was forced to leave his lab. While he loved his laboratory and his work, he loved his boyfriend even more. Grillbert F. Embers, the bartender of Snowdin and partner of the royal scientist. Gaster could write a 50+ page research paper on just the things he loved about Grillby. For instance, he was warm, cuddly, and muscular. Best big spoon Gaster could ask for. Perfect for curling up next to on a winter’s night.

Speaking of... it was the week before Gyftmas, and the snow was falling heavily. Grillby probably wouldn’t be picking him up this evening (the snow was painful if it got on him) so Gaster would probably be walking home alone. Ah, well. The sights of the underground were especially beautiful this time of year, and besides, when he got home (apparently, they were going on a date tonight, according to Grillby) they could light the special candles.

The candles were Gaster’s favorite tradition, if he was being honest. And stars above if the sight of Grillby bent over to light them wasn’t one of the best things Gyftmas had to offer... Gaster also liked wrapping presents. Not necessarily gifting them or even receiving them, but he loved wrapping them. The precision, the detail required in such an important task was right up Gaster’s alley.

Grillby was a different story. The fire monster got extremely frustrated whenever he tried to wrap something. He tried over and over again until smoke came out of his ears and the paper turned to ash in his fingers. Nevertheless, he tried every year. And every year, he ended up sheepishly putting things in gift bags. Just thinking of his beau made Gaster’s soul flutter.

Suddenly, a knock resounded through the lab, pulling the royal scientist out of his festive, Grillby-starring daydream. Someone was at the door. And it was 5:00 ‘o clock! Could it be..?

Grillby turned the knob and entered the lab to see a very happy Wingdings. Under the refuge of a large black umbrella, the fire elemental smiled. He had a full night of activities planned for Gaster and himself, and it started with a romantic walk through Hotland. Then, a dinner outside and going to see the festive lights in snowdin. The lava gave off a nice glow in the night, and was the hot spot for couples to stroll through. Standing in all his 8ft 3 inch glory, Grillby extended a warm, gloved hand to his lover. “Would you like to walk with me, dearest of my heart?”

Gaster blushed a deep mauve. “A-always, my love.” Popping his vertebrae in a very satisfactory manner, he stretched and reached his (not as impressive) height of exactly 7 feet. Taking his hand with star-filled eyes, the royal scientist officially took his winter break.

The two walked over the warm stones and puzzles of Hotland. Gaster himself designed the core and some of the puzzles, and Grillby loved to watch him pass through with elegant ease. His hips swayed in a very feminine manner, and while he was embarrassed by it, Grillby thought it was unfairly adorable. Yes, Gaster was ethereally fluid and graceful- until he tripped over one of his own puzzles.

A resounding crack was heard, followed by a cry of pain. Abandoning his slow and relaxed gait, a rather panicked Grillby ran over to his crumpled heap of a lover. Gaster’s black trench coat was torn and his fibula was snapped cleanly in two. His eyes were leaking glossy purple tears and his lower lip was trembling. In times of great distress his stutter (oh, how he hated that damned stutter!) came out in full force.

“I-I f-f-fell...” Gaster choked out, his voice punctuated by strangled sobs. “Oh, sweetheart...” Grillby murmured softly, carefully examining the leg. It was thankfully a clean break, he could heal it but he had to get Gaster home. The prideful skeleton hates letting others see weakness. Scooping up his lanky counterpart whilst continuing to balance his umbrella, Grillby wrapped the royal scientist in his trench coat and began jogging to their home. So much for a night out.

The walk home was not as short as Grillby knew Gaster would have liked, but he was going slow to avoid injuring Gaster further. Gaster cringed as they passed others, burying his cracked and tear stained face into grillby‘ tweed jacket. He didn’t want anyone to see him in such a vulnerable way. That was for his partner alone. Mercifully, Grillby was giving out his best death stare to anyone who looked oddly at the whimpering ball of nerves and pain in his arms. His fingers traced small circles on Gaster’s back, cradling him naturally, as if he had done it hundreds of times. (He had). At last, they reached their home.

Sighing, Grillby shifted Gaster and the umbrella to one side and unlocked the door. Stepping over the threshold with Gaster in his arms was something he planned on happening next year, but this was good practice. Gaster was thinking the same. As much as he refused to admit it, and while it extremely unfortunate circumstances, he enjoyed being treated like a princess. Wincing, he hobbled over to the comfortable couch he had found during a particularly successful day of dumpster-salvaging. “Grillby... I-I’m sorry about our date.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, Gaster.” Grillby said. “I know you had a lot of Gyftmas activities planned, so I do not retract my statement.” Gaster replied. “I went and ruined by tripping over one of my own damn puzzles.” Sighing sadly, he laid his head on the arm of the couch. Determined to cheer up his boyfriend, Grillby put his hands on his hips. “Who says you can’t do Gyftmas things indoors?”

Gaster raised an eyebrow. “I can’t exactly contribute much with my leg in this state.” “I can put a cast on it.” Grillby thanked the stars for that one year of healing classes when he was an adolescent. “You can walk a little if I do that, If not we can put you in the rolling chair from my office.” Gaster threw up his hands. “Well if there really is no convincing you...”

10 minutes, one cast signed as ‘Gaster’s master plaster for Gaster’s disasters’ and a rolling chair later, the pair were making Christmas cookies in their kitchen. Well, Gaster was making them, carefully measuring out the proper amounts of sugar and flour using graduated cylinders. Exasperatedly, he had to remind Grillby (who was coating his hands in flour and ‘accidentally’ brushing up against Gaster, leaving white streaks against his black slacks) that ‘a fuckton’ was not an appropriate or reasonable unit of measurement for sugar.

The aforementioned elemental was also eating the frosting, somehow thinking he wouldn’t be caught. He was reaching for the bowl to get another bit of it when- “Grillby, If you want these cookies to have frosting you’ll get your fingers out of the bowl.” Glowing brightly in embarrassment, Grillby put the bowl back and tried to pull his best puppy-dog eyes. Gaster ignored him in favor of measuring out a 1/4th teaspoon of salt. Well, he did until he felt something wet poke his face. “Grillbert Embers! Did you just put frosting on my face?”  
“Oops.”  
“Grillby!”  
Smirking, the bartender leaned over. “I’ll clean it off.”

Gaster narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like that tone of voice, what are you planning, you devil-“ he cut off into indecipherable sputters as Grillby licked off the frosting.  
Glowing a truly astounding violet- no, purple- no, a deep amethyst, Wingdings Serif Gaster covered his face and squealed. Bones rattling, hands flapping, he could barely form a sentence. “You! I-I-my face! Ah!” Grillby dissolved into high-pitched giggles, suave demeanor disappearing as tears of laughter came to his eyes.

“Oh my stars, Dings!” Doubled over and laughing hysterically, Grillby looked over at his glowing boyfriend. It really was too easy to rile him up. Speaking of, the skeleton wasn’t moving, just screaming silently, wringing his hands and giving off a radiant plum glow. Magic crackled loudly throughout the room, as did the Grillby’s usual baritone chuckle. “Alright, love. I’m not going to apologize, because that was adorable. How about I finish the cookies, and you start on the tree?” Gaster nodded rapidly and wheeled out of the room as fast as he could.

Grillby smirked and stuck his finger back in the bowl of frosting.

The rolling desk chair crashed into the wall in Wingdings’ mad dash out of the kitchen, nearly knocking over some of Grillby’s ‘art’. He had taken up the hobby of glassblowing last year (it was easy for most fire elementals, and particularly therapeutic for Grillby) and seemed to be hellbent on taking over the house with various twisted pieces of molten sand. While some of his earlier work would be considered garbage to some, Wingdings couldn’t bear to throw it out. Especially not this one. An orange and purple heart, slightly malformed on one side and around 3 inches in diameter, he had received it as his birthday gift a few months ago.

Rolling it around in his hands (it was just big enough that it wouldn’t fall through the holes) he sank into the comfy couch. Whether to start with the angel of the underground on top or work his way up from the bottom, he didn’t know. Deciding that he was a bottom type of monster*, he raised his left hand. Periwinkle magic swirled out from it and towards the box of ornaments in the corner, taking shape into many ghostly hands. The hands went to work undoing the clasps and tugging off the lid with a crisp ‘pop’.

Gaster was not only fluid in physical form (tonight being an exception, he grumbled to himself) but he prided himself as having some of the best magic control in the entire underground. 7, 8, 9 hands were swirling around, placing whittled bones (a gift from his grandmother, Calibri) and different spheres of varying colors and sizes with delicacy unnatural to his grumpy facade. It was such a nice facade too. Only Grillby and Lady Toriel knew that the powerful, aloof, and cold Dr. Gaster was simply an illusion, a... what did his boyfriend call it? “An adorable dork with a big heart and the amount of pride to match.”

Thinking of this, Gaster pulled out a bunch of small vials on a cord, each containing a little yellow spark. Ah, the Gyftmas lights. He and Grillby had made them last year. Using some of his old vials and Grillby’s sparks, they had created long-lasting Gyftmas lights for almost no gold. Their tree was very unique; completely different from everyone else’s and yet just as, if not more beautiful. Next out were the various glass pendants Grillby had made last year, small and tapered, looking like tiny clear tear drops. He had made them with his own fingers and love. Gaster hung these with the utmost care.

Next up were small, 3-dimensional metal chemical diagrams on golden wire. A hand put Dopamine on a lower branch, and Serotonin and Carbon a little higher. Finally, the chemical structure of Bismuth was placed next to a whittled bone. The final ornaments were not ornaments at all, but the special candles. Passed down through Grillby’s family for generations, they were said never to go out and to glow brighter based on positive interaction. Only an elemental could light these candles, or it was considered bad luck; Gaster would have to wait.

He didn’t end up waiting long. The smell of slightly burnt (“Crispy!” Gaster knew his boyfriend would say) cookies and firewood wafted into the room, followed by the soft crackle of flames. Grillby turned to see a bored Gaster sprawled out over the couch, skinny legs dropping over one side. The broken leg was covered in Wingdings’ scarlet-stained lab coat. While most thought it was blood, it was from actually all the times Gaster had spilled wine. As much as he claimed to be a sophisticated connoisseur, Grillby had seen all the times Gaster had tried to hold his wine glass in the hole of his hand, and ended up spilling it all over himself.

Grillby was the more refined of the two when it came to beverages. After all, he was a bartender. He had wanted to be one since he saw a human movie as a child. A film entitled ‘The Polar Express’ had floated down and his mother gave it to him for Gyftmas. The scene with the hot chocolate dance had really struck a chord in Grillby, and he wanted to be just like that- everything from the precise flips to the fancy suits, but with more drinks than just hot chocolate. He got his wish 5 years ago, and couldn’t be happier. Gaster, on the other hand, was not as careful with his drinks. Grillby couldn’t count the number of times Gaster had tried (and failed) to replicate the fancy flips Grillby did, that dork.

But he was Grillby’s dork, and he loved him dearly. “Ding-dong, Wingdinus. I have cookies.” Gaster sighed. “Not hungry...” the whine behind his voice was evident. He must be incredibly hungry, on a good day Gaster would be going back for seconds during this time. What was his issue? “My Wing-Ding-Darling, If you don’t eat something you won’t be able to control your magic well.” Grillby was bringing out the big guns here. He never used that pet name unless he was desperate. However, Gaster had a plan. A most devious plan. But the tree had to be finished first, or it would irritate him.

“Maybe I’ll eat if you light the candles.”  
Grillby rolled his eyes. “That’s why you’ve been waiting for?”

“Oh, and put the angel on top.” Grillby obliged, shaking his head and smiling. With a flourish reminiscent of his tango days (he really was a jack of all trades) he lit the candles. One by one they lit up, glowing brightly at the positive energy flowing through the room. Making sure Gaster was watching, he put the crude ‘angel’- a wrinkly old doll with the delta rune scrawled on it from Wingdings’ childhood- on the top of the tree. Gaster smiled and bit into a cookie. It was poorly frosted but he could tell Grillby had made a solid effort.

After polishing off another two, he went to put his plan into action. Smiling despite himself, through cheeks full of cookie and a thick layer of crumbs, he mumbled “feemeh.”

Grillby looked over, an eyebrow raised. “Come again?” Swallowing his food, Gaster spoke again, much clearer this time. “Feed me.” Bemused, Grillby asked “Why?” “Got hurt. Isn’t that what couples do when they are injured?” “You broke your leg, not your arm.” “But I am tired.” “If you don’t have the energy to get it yourself you don’t have the energy to chew it. I’d prefer you not to dust tonight.” “And I’d prefer you to feed me a fucking cookie Grillbert, look how that’s turned out.” Snorting, Grillby caved.

“Fine, but only because you’re cute.” As a warm hand came near his face Gaster sprang into action. The minute fiery fingers came close enough to his mouth he stuck a long purple tongue out and licked the hand that fed him. Grillby shouted, turned bright white and flung the plate of cookies against the wall in surprise, where it shattered. Rasping, Gaster just laughed. Gripping his sternum, he pulled Grillby in for a hug.  
“Who’s flustered now?”

Steam just poured out of Grillby’s ears. “C’mere, you little-“ Gaster shrieked girlishly as Grillby started tickling his ribs. “Stop! Hahaha! S-stop!” “Never!” Transparent hands appeared once more, making a weak effort at pushing away the fire elemental. But Grillby continued, pulling Gaster on top of him and planting kisses from his phalanges to his zygomatic process, rekindling the purple blush from earlier. Paying careful attention to Gaster’s leg, Grillby laid the underground’s royal scientist on top of his chest and hummed contentedly. Gaster lay gasping for breath, grinning widely.  
“I l-love you.”  
“I love you too, Gaster.”

Drowsily, Gaster nuzzled closer to Grillby’s chest, where he could hear the bartender’s soul beating in time with his own. He was certain he was about to drift off when-  
“It’s snowing.”  
“Hmm?”  
“It’s snowing.”

There was no mistaking the wistful tone in Grillby’s voice. He never touched snow unless he wore thick gloves and even then it still stung. It was a miracle he even worked in snowdin, he had to use his old royal guard boots to walk there safely. Gaster guiltily looked out the window to see a gorgeous flurry of white snowflakes, remembering all the times he played in it in his youth. “You wanna see one?” Grillby nodded. “I cannot touch it though, and I do not want to risk opening the door lest they find their way in.” Gaster nodded thoughtfully. Conjuring up a little magic, he shaped his ghostly hands into snowflakes, enlarged to show the fractals and dendrites. Grillby looked at them in awe.

“They’re beautiful!” “Mm-hmm, and each one is considered unique, and while non-aggregated snowflakes often exhibits six-fold radial symmetry, most snowflakes are not completely symmetric.” Grillby’s face flashed in confusion. Gaster laughed. “Long story short, they’re not perfect but they’re all unique and special. Kinda like you.” He ran a long and bony finger across Grillby’s jaw. The aforementioned monster blushed and reached out to poke Gaster’s cranium. “They are like you because they seem cold and scary yet are only small and delicate.” Gaster rolled his royal purple irises. “Sure. I’m delicate. Whatever you say, dear.”  
“And beautiful,” Grillby added.

Another eyeroll. The snowflakes swirled around in lazy circles, staying long enough for Grillby to reach out and poke them carefully. A snowflake with crystalline branches landed on his nose and fizzled out, as a true snowflake would. Not to be outdone, Grillby released some sparks into the air, joining the snowflakes. He sent a few down to Gaster, who watched them dance around in front of his eye sockets. The pair sat quietly, Gaster laying on top of Grillby. He was only about 140 pounds soaking wet (being literal skin, magic and bones will do that to you) while Grillby weighed in at a surprisingly heavy 265. Most of it was muscle anyways, though Gaster would always be confused on how a man made of fire could even have muscle tissue in the first place.

Gaster laid his head back on Grillby’s chest, staring up at the sparks and snowflakes. Grillby propped himself into a more supportive position, tracing Gaster’s hand-holes with his fingers sleepily. It was his nighttime ritual, the perfect circles inexplicably relaxing to hold. Together the two drifted off into a deep and comfortable sleep, with Grillby dreaming of tangoing with his lover and Gaster of finding a way to make real snowflakes safe for fire elementals. The snowflakes and sparks faded out.  
The candles on the tree glowed brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments inspire more Fics. Comment what you liked, hated, or found grammatically incorrect. Comment ideas and I will use them as guides for future stories. Have a happy Holiday!  
> *author’s note: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


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